


lost in your eyes (drowning in blue)

by riverniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, M/M, Professor Louis, Romeo and Juliet References, University Student Harry, harry is a nerd for romeo and juliet, kinda like myself, oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 07:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4513830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverniall/pseuds/riverniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"For never was there a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."</em>
</p><p>In which Harry is romantic uni student who dreams of finding his Romeo and Louis is the English professor who so happens to be looking for his own Juliet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost in your eyes (drowning in blue)

**Author's Note:**

> This is seriously so self-indulgent. Romeo & Juliet is my favourite love story ever, there's something about love and tragedy that I find exciting to read. I had also just finished my exam on Romeo & Juliet when this was written, so. 
> 
> When you read this, make sure that you are listening to Abel Korzeniowski's [A Thousand Times Goodnight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svPaTjDf9_g) which happens to be one of the soundtracks to the newest Romeo & Juliet films, brought out two years ago. I do hope that you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it.

**+++**

" _O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?_ " Harry sighs, mouthing along with Olivia Hussy as she sits out on her balcony, staring out into the night, arms wrapped around her knees. Harry himself sits in a similar position, his tattered and dog-eared copy of Romeo & Juliet by his feet.

It's not open; doesn't need to be when he knows the words of by heart.  _"Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."_

"Harry, mate!" Zayn's voice carries through his flat, startling him. "C'mon -- gonna be late for class!"

Harry sighs and reluctantly unfolds himself, adjusting his silky green headscarf that make his eyes pop, and switches the tv off, placing a hand over it. "Until later, my dearest Romeo," He hears Zayn shouting for him again and he stuffs his feet into his new light brown boots, courtesy of him mum and sister. He picks up his satchel and swipes his Romeo & Juliet, tucking it safely into his bag.

 _Can't leave without it_ , he thinks as he joins Zayn out in the hallway, whose busy muttering about how next time he's  _going to leave your sorry arse and then we'll see what your dear Romeo has to say about that,_ to which Harry ignores. He says the same thing every morning.

_**+++** _

His first class is English Literature, for which he's glad. It's one of his favourite classes. He leaves Zayn at the art room and waits for everyone to barge into the room before following afterwards. He takes his usual seat at the front of the room and pulls out Romeo & Juliet, reading it as the room slowly fills up.

He can hear people whispering about him,  _he's so weird, he doesn't even talk! I know -- all he does is read that crap piece of shit Romeo & Juliet!_Exactly the reason that he doesn't talk. People judge him before they get to know him. He prefers to keep to himself, thank you.

The room quietens down considerably, notifying Harry that Mr Andrews has entered the room, although when he lifts his head, his mouth drops open. The man now unpacking his own brown satchel onto Mr Andrew's desk is utterly  _magnificent_ in Harry's opinion.

He's wear a pair of black skinny jeans that do  _sinful_ things to his thighs and arse, a black band tee and a black blazer. He's also wearing a pair of black vans. His hair, oh my, his hair! It's brown and soft looking and is slightly longer then Harry's own, just brushing the nape of his neck.

Harry wants to run his hands through it. He realizes that his mouth is still open so he quickly snaps it shut and blushes when he notices that the man has been staring back at him. Oops. The man turns to the board and writes in a horribly shabby scrawl that somehow suits him:  _Mr Tomlinson._

He turns to the class, and when he notices that everyone's paying rapt attention to him, he smirks and clears his throat. "G'morning, the names Mr Tomlinson, but you can call me Louis," his eyes flicker over to Harry and back to the class. "Mr Andrews has had to leave due to...unfortunate circumstances, so I will be his replacement. Any questions now, before we get on with the work?"

Multiple hands go up. As if sensing that this is going to take a while, Louis lets out a quiet sigh and settles onto the desk, leaning back on his hands. He nods to someone in the back, "Yes?"

Harry looks behind him and groans silently as Millie Watson stands up, adjusting the ridiculously tight, short skirt that sits just above her bum. "Do you have a girlfriend,  _Louis_?"

It's so obvious that she fancies him; the fake smile, the high pitched voice and the twirling of her blonde hair. Louis simply smiles.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend -- or a boyfriend for the matter."

Harry watches with glee as Millie's face turns bright red and sits down as fast as possible. Louis scans the classroom before settling on Harry. "Any other questions?"

No one answers. Clapping his hands, Louis turns to the board and writes:  _How much were the adults to blame for Romeo and Juliet's death?_

Louis faces them again and grins mockingly, "I know how much you all hate working, but this is going to be a group project," Harry can already feel his heart sinking. "I'm going to trust you to get into groups and work on a two thousand word paper. If you have any problems, feel free to speak to me after class."

Immediately, the room is filled with chatter and the scraping of chairs as everyone rushes to be with their friends. Harry stays seated, staring down at the table. He pulls out his notebook and sighs, resigning himself to yet another group project where he's the only one working alone.

**+++**

By the time the bell rings, signalling the end of the lesson, Harry has most of the paper already jotted down, the ides flowing and forming wonderfully on the paper. He packs his bag and waits for everyone to exit the room before he takes his leave.

"Oh, uhm, Harry?" Louis calls out, halting him in the middle of the doorway. Harry reluctantly turns and adjusts his bag on his shoulder.

"Yes, Louis?"

Louis lets out a sigh and gestures towards the desk. Harry leans against it. "I couldn't help but notice that you stayed seated whilst everyone was finding a partner for the project. Is there a problem that I can help with?"

Harry's eyes slip shut without his permission and he forces them open again. "No, sir. It's just -- I work better alone, s'all."

Louis gives him a dubious look but nonetheless nods, "Ok, then. I understand that,"  _Here it comes,_ Harry thinks, groaning internally. "--but this is a  _group_ project and I kind of need you to work with someone."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Louis says, "I don't want to look bad on my first day, do I?" He laughs. It's the most magical sound Harry's ever heard.

Harry shakes his head in agreement. "No, but... Who am I going to work with?"

Louis strolls over to his desk and looks down at a piece of paper (most likely the seating chart which nobody actually abides by -- apart from Harry, of course), a frown working its way onto his face. "What about... Niall Horan and Liam Payne? Is that alright with you?" Louis asks, glancing up at him. "If not, that's totally fine and I can find another group?"

"No, no, that's fine," Harry waves his hands about. "Thank you, Louis,"  _He’s so dreamy and fit and nice. Did I say dreamy already?_

Louis grins at him. All teeth. "It's my pleasure, now, I think that I'm holding you up for your next lesson, Mr Styles. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry drags his feet as he walks. He doesn't ever want to leave. "Tomorrow, Louis."

(He thinks he's in love.)

_**+++** _

When he gets back to the apartment, Harry drops his bag and falls down face-first onto his bed. He squeals into his pillow, a large grin stretching his face. When the urge to breathe becomes too much, he flips onto his back and stares at the ceiling.

He feels like a school girl with a crush. (He is, essentially.)

 _I wonder if this is how Juliet felt after she met her Romeo?_ He ponders, fingering the duvet.

He let out a long breath and sat up slowly, fishing his mobile out of his pocket. He has three messages.

One from Zayn:

_**Hiya, mate. Wanna come over mine tonight? Got beers in.** _

Two from Taylor:

_Hey Harry! Was just wondering if you wanted to come to Millie’s party with me?xxxxx_

_Harry?xxxxx_

Harry doesn't bother answering Taylor (which, yes, might be rude but she just doesn’t seem to get that he is into boys), instead replying to Zayn.

**Sure mate, be over in ten xx**

Zayn's reply is simple, yet sweet.

_**Beers are still cold :)))))** _

**+++**

Harry ends up spilling the beans to Zayn about his (not so) little crush on Louis.

"How fit are we talking here?" Zayn asks, taking a handful of popcorn. They're watching Season 3 of  _Teen Wolf_ to catch up before Season 4 starts. Zayn only watches for Dylan O'Brien. (So does Harry.)

Harry shrugs, trying to hide his blush. "Like, David Beckham fit."

Zayn lets out a whistle. Harry giggles. "Wow, 'm gonna have to see this with my own eyes, mate,"

"Only if you pick me up at lunch."

Zayn takes a swig of his beer, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. "Nah, I trust you -- plus, the English block is miles away."

_**+++** _

The next day, Harry wears his lavender jumper that two sizes too big for him (it makes him look smaller, more cuter according to his mum, 'course he knows she's just saying that 'cause she's his mum and she  _has_ to), his skinniest black jeans and light brown Chelsea boots. In his curls, a complementary turquoise headscarf sits. He says his goodbye to Olivia and Leonard and says his good morning to Zayn.

He leaves Zayn at the Art block again and heads to the English block, palms sweating with nervousness. Not only to see Louis (well, maybe) but also, he has to work with Niall and Liam. He talks to Niall occasionally (although, all the blonde wants to do it get him drunk and to hook him up with as many girls as possible), but he doesn't know Liam personally.

He's only heard what Zayn's gushed about him:  _he has the most perfect chocolate brown eyes_ and  _oh, he's so strong -- I saw him training on the field and my god, his biceps!_ and  _he's such a nice, genuine person, I mean, I've never spoken to him but I can just tell, ya'know?_

So, yeah. He's kind of nervous. When he enters the room, he notices that people have already started to sit in their groups (just to impress Louis, he knows it, suck ups), so he slowly makes his way to where Niall and Liam are chatting at a table in the middle of the room. He pauses just ahead of the table and waits for Niall to finish his very loud and enrapturing tale before he clears his throat.

Niall and Liam both glance over at him, making Harry scuff his feet on the floor before he can gather the courage to speak up.

"Um, Louis said that I could work with you?" It's a question.

Liam raises an eyebrow, but shrugs. "Sure, mate. C'mon and take a seat."

Harry slips into the seat next to Niall and grimaces when Niall practically shouts, "How come ya never texted Taylor back?"

Harry can feel the looks being shot at them from the other students and he flushes and whispers out a meek  _my phone died, sorry._ _Niall and Taylor have been best friends throughout their whole lives so it’s not surprising that she probably told him that he was ignoring her._

Niall looks convinced though and gives them both a helpless look. "I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing for this essay," Harry tries not to cringe at his language. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his notebook.

"I, um, already have some ideas -- if you want to hear them?" Once again, it ends up as a question.

Niall lets out a loud,  _whoop, whoop!_ and Liam just smiles politely. Whilst Niall and Liam discuss one of the many ideas Harry has drawn up, he slips out his mobile and flits a text over to Zayn.

**You'll never believe who I'm working with for this group project!!xx**

It takes about a minute for Zayn to reply.

_**Who??** _

Harry grins to himself.

**Niall Horan and...LIAM PAYNE!!!!! :0 Xx**

**He tacks on the surprised emoji just because he can.** Zayn's reply is instant this time.

_**NO WAY OMG!!!! YOU HAVE TO PUT IN A GOOD WORD FOR ME!!!! I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER!!!!** _

He's just about to start typing his own reply when someone clears their throat from behind him. Harry freezes and glances behind him, wide eyes settling on Louis.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Harry?"

Harry stuffs the phone back into his pocket and stares down at the table bashfully. "No, I was just checking the time," he sucks in a sharp breath, praying Louis wouldn't be one of  _those_ teachers, the ones who like to embarrass you in front of the whole class.

Louis gives him a look, shrugging and making his way back to his desk. "If I catch you on that phone again, I'm going to confiscate it."

Harry lets out a breath that he doesn't know he's holding and slumps in his chair, cheeks flaming. He can't believe he was caught! By  _Louis_  of all people.  _He's going to think I'm a disobedient child,_ Harry frets internally,  _I'm such an idiot, god._

The rest of the lesson passes by quickly and when the bells rings, Harry stuffs his book into his bag and nods obediently when Niall and Liam make plans to go to Niall's place to write up the essay. Harry tells them that he'll do it, but they both insist that this is a  _group effort._ Harry's not complaining. It's nice to not have to work on his own for once.

He ambles his way towards the door when he's called back by Louis.  _Oh god, oh fuck, shit!_

He puts his hands behind his back (to stop Louis from seeing him fidget with them) and bites his lip, eyes flickering up to Louis. Today he's wearing another pair of black jeans rolled up at the bottom, another black band tee – _The Rogues?_ – and his black blazer.

He looks disappointed. Harry wants to cry. Then fall to his feet and beg for forgiveness. Whichever comes first, he's not really that fussed.

"I thought you were a good student, Harry," Louis speaks up and Harry blinks rapidly. "I never thought I'd have to tell you of for using your phone in class, I looked at your files - I'm shocked, actually."

Harry shifts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "I am, sir! I'm sorry! It's just – I really was checking the time. See, I forgot my watch this morning and I didn't know how long it was until the lesson began and I wanted to know how much time I had to read  _Romeo & Juliet_before you came in."

He feels terribly guilty and he's sure that Louis can see it on his face (after all, his mum always did say that he was an open book) but Louis merely nods, satisfied with his answer. Harry wants to crawl into a hole and die. He can't believe he lied  _and_  got away with it.

He's going to Hell, surely.

**+++**

Zayn seems to think it's hilarious when Harry tells him at lunch. They're seated in their usual spot outside underneath the towering, old oak tree. Harry rips off half of his tuna mayonnaise sub and gives it to Zayn, knowing full well that he hasn't made himself anything, as per usual.

Zayn accepts it with a small smile, little speckles of paint flicked across his cheeks, and digs in, leaning back against the tree heavily. His eyes scan the courtyard, lingering on a certain buzz cut haired student. Harry watches with glee as a light blush dusts Zayn's dark cheeks.

"Go talk to him," Harry suggests, swatting away a fly that comes too close to his sandwich.

Zayn chokes on his mouthful. "W-what!" he squeaks, eyes wide and staring accusingly at Harry.

He takes another bite of his sandwich, chews and swallows. "I said, go talk to him – you obviously like him," he adds when Zayn goes to protest. "What've you got to lose?"

"Maybe my dignity," Zayn quips back. Harry shrugs.

They don't talk about it for the rest of the week.

**+++**

It's Friday which means that tonight Harry has to go to Niall's along with Liam to write up the essay. They've arranged to meet at Niall's at six, which gives Harry a few hours to mentally prepare himself for what's to come.

The first thing he does is pack his bag; pen, pencil, pencil sharpener, rubber, ruler -- a bunch of highlighters, you know, for the rough copy. Next, outfit. He doesn’t want to look like a complete homeless person, yet he doesn’t want to look like he’s stepped out of a Burberry fashion show.

(He doesn’t own any Burberry.)

(You still get the point.)

It takes him about half an hour of freaking out and Face-Timing Zayn, trying on various different outfits and huffing and puffing.

“ _Mate_ ,” Zayn’s voice is distorted, yet the image of him sitting on the other side of the phone, mixing some paints, is clear as day. “ _Just go with the black skinnies, that sick ‘HOT ‘N’ HARD’ shirt and a pair of boots?”_

Harry picks up the top, jeans already on and sighs. “Really? You don’t think it’s a little…provocative?”

Zayn snorts. “ _Provocative? All you have to do is wear those ridiculously tight jeans that look like they’ve been painted on you and you have men and women drooling all over you.”_

Harry blushes, but nonetheless slips the shirt on, twirling in front of the mirror, inspecting himself.

“ _Anyway,”_ he hears Zayn say, “ _I thought you weren’t going ‘till 5?”_

Harry starts to put away all his other clothes that have been thrown around the room. “I’m not.”

(It’s half past 10.)

Harry finally collapses on the bed, angling the phone so he can see Zayn better. He’s started to paint on a large canvas now, a sea of greens and yellows leaving a trail of fine art in its wake.

He then decides on a black headscarf and puts it on, making sure none of his curls are squashed. He needs a haircut, but can’t force himself to do it.

**+++**

Its five to five and Harry is stood outside Niall’s house. Well, his apartment. It’s defiantly nicer than Harry’s. He doesn’t even need to see the inside to know that. He checks his watch once again and soothes his hands down his shirt and sucks in a deep breath.

He raises his fist and knocks on the door before he can run away. He can hear Niall shouting from inside and as it gets closer, Harry braces himself.

“Harry!” Niall greets, grinning madly. His cheeks are flushed pink, creeping along his neck, disappearing underneath his white chunky knitted jumper. He’s also wearing a pair of light grey joggers, his feet bare.

Harry feels so overdressed now. “H-hi!” he manages to squeak out. Niall lets him in and Harry looks around the place in interest. Multiple pictures of Niall, and who Harry assumes are his family, line the walls. There is an abandoned Derby flag on the coffee table.

“Nice place,” Harry comments, kicking off his boots and setting them on the mat. Niall looks surprised but doesn’t comment as he leads him upstairs.

“T’anks, was me mums place before she moved back t’ Ireland,” Niall reply’s, jumping up the last step. Harry walks it. Niall pushes open the bedroom door, which is covered in band stickers and a large sign stating: ‘ _IRISH ROYALTY ONLY’._

Harry raises an eyebrow but keeps his mouth shut. He shifts his bag strap and waves a small _hi_ to Liam, who’s already made himself comfy on Niall’s bed.

“Hi, mate!” Liam waves back, stretching out like a cat, then settling back down. Harry needs to video this for Zayn. (Discreetly, mind you. He doesn’t want to be caught and be accused of being a stalker.)

Harry gingerly takes a seat at Niall’s desk and gets his notepad out. “So, I was thinking if we start out by highlighting the various people that we’re going to discuss and explore, we can –-“

“Harry! Harry!” Niall interrupts, loudly, throwing his hands up in the air. Harry falls silent. “We can do all that boring _Romeo & Juliet_ shite later.”

Harry finds himself pouting at the fact Niall called his loves _boring._ Boring. As if. “Well,” he huffs, dropping the notebook down on the table with a soft thud. “What are we going to do instead then?”

Niall and Liam give him identical looks.

**+++**

Half an hour later, and Harry is sitting in between Niall and Liam, arms crossed, glaring at the tv screen. “I don’t want watch _The Real Housewives of Orange County_!”

“Oh, c’mon, Harry!” Liam nudges him with his shoulder. He picks up the remote and presses the play button. There’s another ten episodes on the planner.

Clearly, Niall and Liam are both addicted.

Harry sighs and settles himself in for torture.

**+++**

They don’t end up writing out the essay, but surprisingly Harry finds himself caring none. He’s been forced against his will into watching five episodes (he won’t admit it, but he is actually starting to like it and also, he likes Vicki but Heather? Not so much.), sandwiched between who he know considers his close friends.

He leaves with a smile on his face and a skip in his step. Humming a wordless tune to himself. The weather’s still nice out, so he decides to go down to road to _Mindy’s Ice Cream Parlour._ It’s one of the University’s funded projects which has gone a long way since.

He greets the waitress as she happily takes him to a booth, handing him a menu. He doesn’t even need to look at it.

“I’ll have the double mint choc-chip, please.” The waitress jots down his order and prances off.

He pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Niall:

**Thanks for tonight, mate.**

Niall’s reply comes a few moments later:

_No probz man ! deffo gotta do it again !_

Harry grins.

“So this is what you do in your spare time?” A familiar voice breaks through Harry’s brain.

Louis is stood there, still looking like a god, holding a glass pot full of vanilla ice cream, sprinkled with what looks like almonds.

“Louis! Hi!” Harry greets, forcing down his blush. “Do you want to sit?” He gestures towards the empty space in the booth. Louis slips in with a grateful smile.

“So, how’s the project going?” Harry’s eyes widen at the mention of the long forgotten project. He tries to splutter out a response but Louis merely laughs (and oh my, the angels are singing today) and waves his hand dismissively.

“I’m just kidding, Harry. I’m not on duty right now so it’s cool.”

Harry goes to reply when the waitress returns with his order, setting it down in front of him and handing him a long spoon. He thanks her and turns back to Louis, who’s smirking at him.

“So…you’re a mint choc-chip man then?” His eyes are sparkling with something that Harry can’t decipher.

Harry scoops some onto his spoon and nods, “Oh yeah, can’t get enough of the stuff,” He pops it into his mouth and moans happily. He watches in delight as Louis’ eyes darken and he shifts in his seat.

“Something wrong?” he hopes he looks seductive as he bats his eyelashes at him and not like he’s got a twitch in his eyes.

To his delight, Louis clears his throat and when he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse, “No, everything is…peachy.” Harry giggles to himself but doesn’t push it any further (although he _really, really_ wants to.).

**+++**

They spend an hour chatting about anything and everything that isn’t Uni-related. Harry finds out that Louis is the eldest child, he hates wearing socks, his mum just got re-married and he’s so happy for her, he originally wanted to be a drama teacher, but there just weren’t enough opportunities for him and he also used to be in a band when he was younger.

“I used to be in a band too!” Harry gushes, leaning forward. His cheeks feel like they are about to split. The diner is nearly empty now, save the odd customer, no one they know though. Louis leans forward too.

“Really?”

Harry nods enthusiastically, scooting so his bums just barely hanging off the seat. Louis copies him. “Yep! We were in battle of the bands and we came in first place!”

They are so close now; just a breaths width apart. Harry can feel Louis’ vanilla scented breath hit his lips. He’s sure Louis can feel his own minty breath. Harry edges forwards slightly. He sees Louis do the same.

He closes his eyes.

“Here you go, lovelies!” They are suddenly interrupted, sending Harry flying back into his seat in shock.

Harry’s eyes are wide open, heart pounding frantically against his ribs. _Oh god! He just nearly_ kissed _Louis Tomlinson – his English Professor!_

The waitress sets the bill down on the table, smiling sweetly at them before turning and skipping off, leaving the pair of them in silence.

“I, uhm,” Louis begins, stutters, looking panicked. “This can’t happen, Harry, I’m your professor.”

Harry quickly exits to the booth, pulling his bag up with him. He looks anywhere but Louis, cheeks flaming with shame. Of course Louis wouldn’t want to kiss him, he’s his student…but, Louis _was_ leaning towards him so that must count for something, right?

“I understand, Professor.” He mumbles, making a hasty retreat out of the diner, practically sprinting back to his apartment. He slides down the door until his elbows are pressed into his knees and lets out a shuddering breath.

For the first time in 19 years, he has actually found someone he’s willing to give his first kiss to.

Holy shit.

**+++**

The following Monday, things are awkward. Well, between Louis and Harry they are. Considering the ‘almost first kiss’, every time he even so much as glances at Louis, Harry feels his cheeks heating up. He, Niall and Liam finish the project together and they get an A*.

It’s fair to say they are all delighted.

“I say we all go out and celebrate tonight, lads!” Niall crows, throwing his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Harry gives him and unsure look, debating his options.

One: It’s a Monday night and he has classes the next day.

Two: He’s only ever gotten drunk on one other occasion and that was at a wedding when he’d had slightly too much champagne.

Three: This could also be his opportunity to introduce Zayn to Liam. (Zayn’s been bugging him to invite Liam over to do the project as his house so Zayn can _accidentally stumble in and accidentally fall into Liam’s arms and look into his gorgeous eyes_ – Zayn’s words, not his.)

“Oh, alright then,” he submits, mentally making note of the fact that Zayn owes him. “Can I bring my mate Zayn, too?”

When Liam nods his head yes, Harry grins to himself at the thought of Zayn’s upcoming mental breakdown. Oh yeah, Zayn owes him big time.

**+++**

He’s wearing his black jeggings that make his arse and thighs look fantastic, a white shirt that says _DREAMBOAT_ on it and a pair of white Converse. He’s got a red headscarf in his hair and he feels really pretty. Niall’s planning on taking them to the notorious Club Pink, to which he’s a regular member of.

While he waits for Zayn’s call that will be coming soon no doubt, Zayn freaking out over what to wear and whatnot, he switches on his tv and presses play from where the dvd was previously paused.

 _“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”_ Leonard Whiting gasps, going to push out of the bushes, in which he hides, then back again when his Juliet speaks.

Harry watches in rapt attention, eyes and mind focused on the scene that’s unfolding in front of him. His phone begins to buzz and with a sigh he swipes the answer button, holding the phone up higher so he can see Zayn’s panicked face.

 _“Haz, I’m like, seriously freaking out right now!”_ Zayn shouts, the sound crackling through the speaker. Harry can see his room behind him in the small screen. It’s a bomb site. Like a tornado has charged through. There are clothes, shoes, belt, hats and even underwear thrown all over.

Harry chuckles, “Why? It’s only Liam,”

 _“’Only Liam’”,_ he scoffs, flipping Harry the bird. (“Lovely, thanks for that.” “You’re most welcome.”) _“This isn’t just a night out, Harry! This is my chance to impress Liam! I can’t turn up looking like a hobo!”_

Zayn sets the phone down on his desk and pulls on a pair of black skinny jeans – that equally rival Harry’s – and a white printed t-shirt, throwing on a blue and black checkered shirt over it, unbuttoned of course.

 _“What about this?”_ he asks, doing a twirl.

“Jesus Zayn,” Harry huffs, “You look hot in everything, and can we go now?” Zayn gives him a distressed look. He lets out another sigh. “Look, it’s just us going out to a club where the guy you’ve been crushing on forever will happen to be – no biggie.”

Zayn glares at him through the screen. _“You are not helping at all.”_

“Then why did you ring me?”

Zayn hangs up on him.

**+++**

They are stood outside the famous Club Pink, waiting for Niall and Liam and Zayn is a bundle of nerves. He won’t stop tapping his foot or checking his phone for the time.

“Will you put that bloody thing away, you’re making me dizzy.” Zayn makes an undistinguishable noise in the back of his throat but shoves the phone into his pocket. He doesn’t stop fidgeting. Just as Harry is about to turn around and shove Zayn into a bush, Niall and Liam emerge.

Zayn freezes up, eyes glued on Liam’s built body coming closer. Liam’s eyes are drawn to Zayn as well.

“Alright lads!” Niall greets, too loudly as per usual, but it doesn’t surprise Harry. Zayn on the other hand, nearly has a heart attack.

Niall pulls him into a hug, having no regard for people’s personal space, and claps him on the back. Hard. Harry winces from where he’s stood. That must’ve hurt and Niall isn’t exactly the most gentle person. Liam on the other hand, gently, gives Zayn a one armed hug, leaving Zayn starstruck and breathless.

Liam and Niall lead them into the club, which is in full swing, with a tip of his head to the bouncers on either side of the door. Harry hears some people grunting unhappily as they are allowed to cut the cue. The music is blaring loudly out of the speakers and Harry can feel the bass vibrating through his entire body.

They take a seat at a secluded booth far, far into the club. Niall immediately declares that he’s going to get the drinks and he disappears into the vast crowd of gyrating people, grinding onto each other. Harry slides in, Zayn and Liam sitting across from him.

Even Harry can see the blush painting Zayn’s cheeks. He gives him a cheeky smile and earns a kick in return.

**+++**

**Author's Note:**

> As of right now, this work is unedited but I promise it will be at some point.


End file.
